


Vanilla Lattes and Mochas.

by keyboardCoffeestains



Series: The Crumbling Goblet [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-04 02:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyboardCoffeestains/pseuds/keyboardCoffeestains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I would ask you to tell me why people live such empty lives.<br/>I would ask you to tell me why everyone complains about not meeting that special someone. But all i want to ask is, why do we really need to meet them? Sex? Love?<br/>In Act One of this series, I want to explore the concept of meeting someone, falling in love, out of love and finally falling into a different kind of love.  Can that kind of love still exist in this world?<br/>This is the first in a series about love, friendship and the human connection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> The series this is going to be comprised of a few medium length fics that explore concepts of the human connection. It is for exploration and I hope i invoke some thought for and against societies conventions.  
> Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think in the comments:D

The Crumbling Goblet was the sort of cafe that had a magnetic attraction for artists. Some would say the main factor was the  intimate decor. The walls were all made of white brick, and the ceiling of concrete and the floor out of worn out wooden planks. Lighting this up was the brick fireplace near the wall left of the counter, and the naked lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling. The owner of the small place hated white lights, and as a result, the lights were all warm and yellow.   
But other people people would say it was the exceptional coffee that was formulated in the shop. The store owner was an extremely passionate man, and his fingers poured heavenly cups of coffee.

In this humble narrator’s opinion however, it was the open stage for anyone to mount that was the main point. See, a stage is a place of expression, and artists just love to do that, don’t they?

That particular stage had been the beginning of relationships, great singers, poets, writers and actors.

The Crumbling Goblet, on the Thirty Seventh street was a place of expression, love and emotion. It was a sanctuary for like minded individuals and in it’s simplest, a place to meet friends.   
It is here our story begins. On a quiet saturday afternoon, our two individuals will meet.


	2. Lattes and Mochas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The actual chapter one.

It had just turned March, and as she did every saturday afternoon, the blond haired girl was headed to The Crumbling Goblet. The cafe held a certain charm for her, with it’s white walls and an open stage. On the occasion that she took a break from writing she would lean back in her chair and listen to whatever was happening on the stage. It was a rare occasion if the cafe was thrust into the relative silence of people conversing, so Rose was rarely bored. That day she was wearing her usual torn jeans and a shirt that was dark pink. Her trademark purple hairband held her hair back, and her blond hair perfectly combed. A small bag was slung over her right shoulder, her Macbook tucked safely inside. The computer was the tool of her trade, and it was one of her prized possessions.

The walk from her school owned apartment building to the cafe was usually a pleasant one, seeing that Rose loved to listen to music and just observe the world. It was for this reason that she refused to take the bus that would make the fifteen minute walk a five minute ride.

Besides, she liked the exercise.

When she had finally reached the glass doors of The Crumbling Goblet, she nodded to the man who was cleaning the door as a greeting and made sure to use the handle to open the door. He had a hard enough time of cleaning as is. She took off her earphones as the owner of the humble cafe greeted her with a ‘afternoon! The usual?’. 

‘Of course. Did anyone take my seat?’

‘Most definitely not’

She smiled as she walked to the seat next to the window looking out at the street, near to the fireplace and had a good view of the stage. It was also right next to a power source. She wondered why she even asked, Mike never would let anyone take her seat. Especially not on a Saturday afternoon.

She put her bag on the floor next to her chair, and extracted the thin laptop within. The computer itself was in its own pouch of its own, and in one deft movement she unzipped the pouch and took out the computer.

Mike called out again, letting her know that her coffee was ready, so she thumbed the power button on the Macbook and went to get the coffee. When she got back, the machine was awaiting a passcode. She took the time to savor the latte that she had brought back to the table. She tasted a hint of vanilla inside, and she give a sideways glance at Mike. He gave her a friendly wink and mouthed the words ‘it tastes better’.

It did.

She entered in the passcode and pulled out the story she was working on. She then took out one of the other items inside her bag, a leather-bound journal in which she wrote the planning and rough drafts for her various projects. She then started writing, 

\---

It was later into the afternoon, the sun threatening to set, allowing the moon to take the stage. At the same time, a young, blond haired man took the empty stage in The Crumbling Goblet.

He had sunglasses over his eyes, his face impassive. 

Over his body he wore a white T-shirt and a pair of black jeans, his hair messy, but groomed to perfection.

He connected the DJ rig that he had brought along to the stage and tapped the microphone before speaking into it.

‘Hey guys.’

A few patrons looked up and laughed. Some just ignored him.

‘This is a mix that I made just now, and you people better enjoy it. It’s a remix of ‘It’s Time’ by Imagine Dragons.’

Some people perked up at the name of the song, including Rose. She knew the young man in blond, of course. He played his mixes on Saturday evenings, and she occasionally listened to some of them. This one caught her particularly caught her attention. It was well made, and she enjoyed it a fair bit (although it might have been because she knew the band and liked the song).

She was spacing out while listening to the song, and her gaze was set over the stage. The amateur DJ noticed it, and his gaze met hers for a second. His mind raced, taking in her figure in seconds. He put it out of his mind for the time being, instead he continued to stare at his computer and turntables. 

 

The music had came to a halt, but Rose was still staring at the stage. The song had captivated her, and she could still hear some of the last bars in her head. She did not notice the blond haired guy talking to her until she finally snapped out of her trance.

‘Hey. You space out that much?’ He said, his voice even. Rose turned to look at him, and she picked up her second cup of coffee and took a sip from it. 

‘On occasion. Your music was particularly good today, I must say.’

‘Today? My music is amazing everyday, miss...’

‘Rose. Rose Lalonde. And you are?’

‘Strider. Dave Strider.’

‘So, Mr. Dave Strider, what is it that you love?’

He took a second to ponder this, and responded

‘My turntables. And you’re strange, people don’t usually ask questions like that the first time they talk to someone.’

‘I am not most people. You chose a good love, one that will never break your heart.’

A flicker of an emotion that Dave could not place was visible for a second on Rose’s face. What was it? Sadness? Longing?

‘And you, what do you love?’

Rose replied with no hesitation at all

‘Words and a good story.’

‘Very interesting. So what’s your story? How has your soul come to this point where you drink coffee and sit alone at this cafe on Saturdays?’

She looked up at Dave, amused. It was rare that she got to engage in verbal spars, as her interactions with other humans were usually brief and usually cordial.

‘I dislike speaking to most people, I think better alone.’ Rose had decided to go with the truth, deciding that it was the best answer.

‘Oh, really? So you’re one of those emo hipster chicks who write all day.’

‘I suppose. And you? Why are you here?’

‘It’s a break from the rest of my life.’ He offered no more insight.

Rose took another look at Dave, memorizing every detail. She thought he looked decent, but she shelved those thoughts.

She promised herself not to fall into that trap again. She refused to entertain any thought that would lead to her even remotely have feelings for him.

Not again, she thought.

She realized that Dave was waiting for her next word. She decided not to speak further, and instead returned to typing on her keyboard.

Dave shrugged and got up, leaving the table. Rose breathed an inward sigh of relief, but a little disappointed that he was gone. She did not speak to people often, and it was pleasant to have someone to converse with for once.

But it turned out that she would not be disappointed when Dave returned with a cup of mocha and sat down across her.

‘Mind if I sit here?’

She considered it for a moment, and against her better judgement she responded

‘Not at all.’


	3. Vanilla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave and Rose meet for the second time, this time for a more fleeting moment.

_Tuesday, Spring._

 

Rose was a student, as most of the extremely mysterious young ladies in corners of coffee shops are. That meant that monday to friday, she was an almost perfectly normal creative writing student.

Today, as she exited her apartment building dressed in her usual garb, walking towards the Goblet. Instead of the usual people who seemed to all walk straight, fast and with purpose, people seemed to all be whispering to each other. Walking past them, she shrugged internally. _What could be up today?_ As she got closer and closer to the Goblet, the crowds seemed to get thicker, to the point that she had to gently push her way through the throng of people. She glanced around again, and she noticed that everyone seemed to be trying to tiptoe to see something ahead. It was not until she had finally reached the entranceway to the cafe, that she had finally realised what the whole commotion was about. 

On the floor lay two darkly dressed men, writhing in pain on the ground. In the middle of them was no other than the one Dave Strider, dusting off the sleeves of his long sleeved shirt.

When she approached, he looked up and waved at her.

‘Tried to nick my wallet and run off! What was I supposed to do, huh?

He turns to the large audience, some of which had already turned and left. 

‘And you people, don’t you all have somewhere else to be, work or something?’

The crowd quickly dispersed at that, not wanting to face the same fate as his unfortunate assailers.

 ‘Nice. So we just leave them lying there?’

‘Until the police come, yeah’ he nodded nonchalantly. 

Rose’s mouth quirked at the comment, his detached demeanour almost comical in the situation. She was starting to like this guy a little more. She nodded back.

‘Coffee?’

He took the lead, pulling the door back, and holding it open for her in the most dramatic way possible

‘After you, Miss Lalonde’ 

 

The Goblet was almost empty when they stepped in, half of the customers but must have bolted when the fight broke out. Rose set her bag down in her usual seat, and turned to Dave, who had suddenly started limping.

She sighed, and breezed past him, approaching Mike.

‘Your friend over there scared off like 15 people with that fight of his.’

Rolling her eyes, she proceeded, 

‘How did it go down? Was it fast or- How long was the fight?’ She stumbled on her words, and her cheeks reddened. It was not like her to be so flustered, and she was slightly embarrassed.

When she had calmed down sufficiently, her coffee was done.

‘It lasted for like, twenty seconds and half the time it was the two dimwits out there punching the air.’ He responded, a mischievous glint in his eye.

She turned back,looking for Dave but the chair opposite hers was empty.

Instead he was right behind her.

‘Yeah. Was going easy on them.’

‘Really, wow I am so. So.’ She paused for emphasis

‘Utterly. Impressed.’ She dragged out the ’s’, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Taking her coffee, she brushed past him and took her seat. 

 

_This is not happening, not again._

Her face was in her hands, her mind was racing. 

_I said I wouldn’t let this happen._

_Not after-_

She felt a pair of strong hands shaking her by her shoulders and her head shot up

‘I’m fine.’ Her voice was soft, she took Dave’s hands in hers, and removed them from her shoulders.

His hands were rough, but they felt sturdy and strong. The froze for a second, unmoving.

Rose quickly withdrew after a few more seconds, realising what she had done.

‘I’m sorry, that was, uh, inappropriate of me.’

He remained silent.

‘Dave?’

He yet, remained silent.

‘Dave!’

No response.

Frustrated with her situation, she took the easiest way out- taking her bag and running out of the Goblet.

Her vanilla latte was left on the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY I UPDATED THIS!  
>  Have fun guys next chapter will be nicer i hope


End file.
